Screenland (Nov 1950-Oct 1951)

hearsals, and of gradually perfected characterizations. They make up the toughest audience on earth because they make a profession of being unimpressed, and because most of them know show business from box office to handbill and back again. Yet this hard-boiled aggregation acknowledged Miss Leigh's excellence by giving her a silver cigarette box. Inscribed on the cover was the single word, "Vivien," and on the inside of the cover was engraved a sentence of admiration which, characteristically, Miss Leigh has not shown to anyone. Neither will she repeat it. Incidentally, Miss Leigh went blonde for the part of Blanche although her own hair is reddish brown and naturally curly. In the film, her shadow is between ten and twelve pounds slimmer than the image she likes to cast, but there seems to be little she can do about it. Before the beginning of each of her pictures, and before opening night of her plays, she begins to melt away. Also she is inclined to develop a severe head cold at dress rehearsal and spend the day before premiere in a tumult of apprehension that she is going to lose her voice. A relaxing aid at such times is her coterie of three cats, serving loyally as household pets in good standing. One is an aristocratic Siamese, but the other two are incidental wayfarers of questionable lineage. One wandered in on Christmas day, obviously seeking a handout. He was accommodated and named, inevitably, "Christmas." Before creating her London characterization of Blanche in "Streetcar Named Desire" ( which she played for eight months), Miss Leigh did not see Jessica Tandy's New York performance, nor did she see the poignant Judith Evelyn interpretation which was played for West Coasters. Aside from the geographical problems involved in her catching these performances, she has made it a practice to avoid seeing the work of her colleagues in modern plays which might become vehicles for herself; the sole ex find must feel the same way. She must live music as I do. I know that perhaps that would be tough to find, for it's an all-consuming thing, a thing that starts the moment I wake in the morning and goes on every moment of my day. There's never a time when a song is not important to me, or when I've had too much of melody. And I suppose that's rare in anyone else. The girl I need doesn't have to be a raving beauty. I like the blonde type — as most Italians do — but I'll probably wind up marrying a brunette. Life is like that. She must be, above all temperamental things, pleasant. She must have a nice character. And she must have heart. There's a girl I know in New York 58 ception is "Antigone" which she saw Katherine Cornell do some years ago. Naturally, she saw the great mistresses of drama re-create the classical roles of the theatre as she was growing up, but she seems to feel that classical drama is expansive enough and flexible enough in changing times, to allow for a fresh approach at regular intervals. Naturally, because of her eminence and the sympathetic quality she projects, she receives a great deal of mail from youngsters with theatrical ambitions. "How am I to get started? What are the short cuts and how shall I find them? How must I prepare myself?" are the usual queries. Miss Leigh's answer is delivered straight from the shoulder: "If you want to be an actor, truly want to work in the theatre, you will find your own way without advice from anyone. If you were meant to be an actor, you will be an actor, regardless of apparent obstacles." She adds that, in the main, acting is not a munificent profession: there are as many struggling actors as there are struggling chemists, drapers, or fishermen. She thinks it should be stressed that acting is one of the most difficult of all professions, a tantalizing, elusive, exhausting business. She herself started at a very young age, and she was tossed into parts which, she feels now, were beyond her. She was required to perfect characterizations which were too intricate for her knowledge and experience; naturally, being Vivien Leigh; she learned faster than she had dreamed possible, she matured more rapidly than the normal climate of her development would have allowed. She rose to the challenge. She is like that. Slim as a scepter, and as authoritative. Bright as a sword and as valiant. Fresh as an English rose, and quite as sweet. D'ya know what the technicians call Lady Olivier, when Lady Olivier is out of sight? Quote: Cute Kid. Close quote. who has these things. She's a tiny thing, physically, but her heart is enormous. She is invariably trying to do things for people, things they don't expect, things which come at the times when they need them most. And she knows, too, the difference between an acquaintance and a friend. She doesn't presume on a casual relationship: she keeps her dignity. When she does give her friendship, you know that it's for keeps. There are a few little things which are important to me in a girl. First, I'd like her to look "clean." By that, I mean that she shouldn't have too much stuff on her face. I'd like to be able to see what she looked like, not what some beautician dreamed up for her. And I'd like her to be reasonably athletic. She doesn't have to be a "muscle moll," but I'd like her to join me in playing golf, or bowling, or a few hours at an archery range. I enjoy these things immensely, and I would enjoy them even more if I had a good companion when I did them. Another thing: She's simply got to know how to dance. I don't do much nightclubbing — I've spent too much time singing in those places to like them for entertainment — but, when I do go to such a spot, I'd like the girl to be able to follow the music. There is nothing* worse, as far as I'm concerned, than to go to a party or a cabaret and get up to dance and — nuthin' happens! And, last, I want the girl to go out with me, not with everyone in the room. There are gals who date men, you know, for what it will do for their careers, or because they think it is "smart" to be seen with them, or because they merely want to go to certain places. And you dance with them and, physically, they are dancing with you. But, mentally, they are off in a corner with some guy they've seen across the floor, or looking around to see who's there, or something. To me, that is not only as rude as someone can get but it's vastly embarrassing. Does my girl have to know how to cook? No, not at first. I'll teach her how to cook! Does that sound funny? Well, after all the years of training I've had from my mother and sisters, cooking is one of my favorite indoor sports. And, if the gal I marry doesn't know how it's done, I'll be glad to act as professor. Ours would be a quiet life, as you may be gathering. For in Hollywood I've found the first regular existence I've had in years. And I love it, especially after the nightclub circuit. I go to the movies a lot, for the very simple reason that I feel I have a great deal to learn about picture technique and I want to be a success in films. I watch the people in my particular field, the big-shots like Crosby, for instance, and see how they handle things, pick up tricks from them, hope that some day I can have the ease on a stage that they do. And I go out to a drive-in and munch hamburgers with two or three of my friends, and then drop down to that archery place I mentioned, or bowl a few lines, or perhaps stop in at the Beverly Tropics or the Encore for some music. It isn't very glamourous, my life, but it's a lot of fun. I hope it could be fun for someone else, too. There's another misconception in the public brain, incidentally. And that is that when you are signed to a movie contract, or have achieved any sort of prominence, you are instantly besieged by all sorts of invitations from all sorts of people. In a way, this is true. But, unfortunately, the invitations are often not the sort you want and they're not from the people you care to become intimate with. The real people don't chase you. They wait until they happen to meet you. Some Of My Best Friends Are Married Continued from page 25